Conversations with Harry
by ForgottenPages
Summary: Rarely does anyone think of a creature such as a lizard having a beginning; however, those that do can be very elaborate about it, if they care to put forth the effort.


_Disclaimer: I do not own "Death In Paradise". Promise!_

_A/N: This short story takes place between the finale of season 2 and the premier of season 3. _

Rarely does anyone think of a creature such as a lizard as having a beginning; however, those that do can be very elaborate about it, if they can to put forth the effort. DI Richard Poole often wondered about his little friend, who he had come to call Harry for some reason or other. In spite of his initial distaste for the green fellow, his attachment to its companionship became vital to his mental survival on the island.

"What is your story, Harry?" Richard asked his amiable roommate one evening. It had been a long and especially hot day. Richard even allowed himself the luxury of rolling up his sleeves and undoing the top button of his shirt. And now he sat on his porch, coming as close as he was capable of enjoying the view, and relishing the developing, comparative coolness that the evening air provided. Harry was on the railing, his little lungs expanding and collapsing his lizard skin, and staring at Richard with a tilted head and curious black eyes.

"You must have one," Richard continued after Harry refused to answer, "I mean, you cannot have just appeared out of thin air. You must have had a father and mother at some point, I assume, if science has proven anything. I suppose you were hatched out with your siblings, raised a bit, and then sent out to fend on your own."

Harry blinked as though to agree.

Encouraged, Richard went on, "How you came to be here, now that is the mystery, isn't it? Did you always live here or did your find your way? I suppose you weren't thrown out on your ear by my predecessor. He took care not do away with you, at any rate." Richard scoffed at himself, "The heat must be boiling my brain. I am talking to a lizard, as though it were my own friend in the world."

And that is what it came down to. Richard was a lonely man, socially inept, and in desperate want of friends. it was rather difficult for him to understand the concept of friendship. While he had had such a relationship in college, it had ended miserably, and left him wondering where he'd gone wrong. Perhaps it was the fear of losing someone again that kept him closed off from those who seemed to show a genuine interest or concern. To have nobody at all might possibly be better.

His thoughts drifted to his colleagues. Camille seemed to have no trouble balancing her professional life with her social life. Neither did Dwayne or Fidel. They simply recognized their roles in the workplace and did not let it interfere...most of the time. Of course, there were moments of unprofessionalism which drove him absolutely mad at times. But it was their laid back attitudes that made him curious, and perhaps a little jealous, if he cared to admit it.

They were always saying that he was uptight and pompous. That is, Camille always said it, but it was obvious that she had the wholehearted support of Dwayne and Fidel. Even if they thought he didn't notice, he saw the exchanged glances of exasperation, the grins of an acknowledged inside joke. Sometimes, he wished he could be right there with them.

"A real friend puts up with you in spite of yourself," Richard told Harry thoughtfully. As opposed to his coworkers in London, Camille, Dwayne, and Fidel were very patient with him, and often overlooked his overbearing nitpicks and quirks. That must mean something.

"They didn't really like me much in the beginning," Richard told Harry thoughtfully. "I must say I wouldn't have much liked myself either. But I tell you, Harry, they seemed relieved when I came back, when I didn't stay in London after all. And even though I have explicitly expressed my disdain for parties, they had a 'Welcome Home' one for me. That must mean something."

Harry scurried down from his perch and disappeared under the porch, abandoning Richard to his private thoughts. A small, cautious smile crept across the detective's face. "Yes," he said, "that must mean something."

END


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